#AmericanWriters
678 Wolfe demanded during dying “Which obtain the Day”? “General, the British”—"Easy” Answered Wolfe “to die”
’Twas comfort in her Dying Room To hear the living Clock— A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock— Diversion from the Dying Theme
Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled
“Speech”'—is a prank of Parliamen… “Tears”'—is a trick of the nerve’— But the Heart with the heaviest f… Doesn’t’—always’—move’—
659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—
430 It would never be Common — more —… Difference — had begun — Many a bitterness — had been — But that old sort — was done —
195 For this—accepted Breath— Through it—compete with Death— The fellow cannot touch this Crow… By it—my title take—
192 Poor little Heart! Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little Heart!
607 Of nearness to her sundered Thing… The Soul has special times— When Dimness—looks the Oddity— Distinctness—easy—se ems—
FATE slew him, but he did not dr… She felled’—he did not fall’— Impaled him on her fiercest stakes… He neutralized them all. She stung him, sapped his firm adv…
SUCCESS is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple host
289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,
264 A Weight with Needles on the poun… To push, and pierce, besides— That if the Flesh resist the Heft… The puncture—coolly tries—
I had been hungry all the years– My noon had come, to dine– I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen
541 Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas— Just at noon—no later—Sweet— Then—the License closes—